P R E S E N T I N G;The Glorious Woman of the Golem.Persephone Regalis;I keep on shelling out my memories like cash
Except they do not hold a currency that lasts
I'd like to lie back in the certainty of you
But now I realize there is nothing absolute
When there are spirits to take our place
What good's a mirror without a face?
WE'RE WALKING IN THE AIR
Nothing will ever hold us down.
• FULL NAME: Persephone Wisteria Regalis
• NICK NAME: Percy
• AGE: newborn
• BIRTHDAY: May 9
• GENDER: female for all intents and purposes
• SPECIES: Golem
• RACE: Mystic
• BIRTHPLACE: Aster
• OCCUPATION: Entirely occupied, thank you.
• LOCATION: Aster
• MARITAL STATUS: Single, unless otherwise informed
• SEXUALITY: Heterosexual, though she find same-sex partnership intriguing
• CANON OR ORIGINAL: Original, requested
WE'RE FLOATING IN THE MOONLIT SKY
The people far below are sleeping as we fly.
Her curiosity will kill her.
While Persephone is not stupid by any stretch of the imagination, she has come to value experience over any other form of education. She is in a constant state of both observation and adaptation, but in order to truly learn, she feels the need to reinforce new concepts with action. Oh, the stove is hot? Hot is dangerous? Hot. Dangerous. She tastes the words on her lips, commits them to memory. And then reaches out to touch the hot, dangerous stove. It is not that she lacks trust. Indeed, her trust in her most ready teacher, Levy, is total and complete—so much so in fact that it may also be counted among her weaknesses. More to the point, she hopes this experience will make her more real. While she understands that her well-being is integral to Levy's—he requires looking after, though she would only ever use those exact words to his face in playful tones—her childlike inclinations have a tendency to take over in the pursuit of a shiny new experience. The doing of something is more solid than simply hearing of it, or even seeing it, though she does take great pains to thoroughly learn her environment and pick up on the subtleties of the people inhabiting it. She knows Levy by heart. That is also a weakness.
This concept of what is "real," and what it means to become "real" is complicated and she has trouble with more subtle nuances of the term. She just knows what it is something she is not, and it is something she has come to desire above all else. Her relatively simple understanding of the concept combined with an innate logic that was built into her programming has made it easy for her to conclude that, like most other desirable things, "realness" is something to be earned. Her chief concern being her complete devotion to Levy, she has come to realize she would best serve him if her existence was not limited to boundaries set by her lack of humanity. Though humanity it a term whose associations Levy regards with absolute abhorrence, the humans she has observed still appear to rate above her status as golem. She knows what she is and hopes to one day become what she will never be and what she is willing to do to earn the right—all for Levy, of course—is a serious chink in her armor. She may be unwittingly lured into some less than savory things with the promise of that experience being put into an intangible bank that will eventually earn her a scroll-less life.
In the end, as with all golems, she is a victim of and slave to her programming. Levyathan is a brilliant man and she is not his first doll. If there were any mistakes made with his prototype, it seems he sought to correct them with Persephone. He hindered her emotions in a half-hearted attempt to erase love from his previous programming mishap and the result is a cutting and sometimes cold logic imbued with a puerile sense of comprehension. Her deductive reasoning is keen, but the conclusions she manifests from that deduction are simplistic in nature. The independence she has been allowed as well as enhanced communication skills in comparison to her predecessor also makes her inclined to act on her conclusions rather than asking permission first, though only if she feels her decision to be in the Levyathan's best interests.
She is entirely susceptible to both flattery and slander, but has trouble reconciling the knowledge of how she should react with the ability to do so. For example, it is obvious that to be called "beautiful" is a good thing and she can nod and smile when the compliment is given, but attaching motive or intent to such a comment—at least when related to herself—is beyond her ken. Just the same, when Levyathan calls her "foolish" or "stupid," she knows she ought to feel properly ashamed, but attaching the reason behind his irritation to what she may have done to ignite it will require explanation on his part. And while she will be certain not to make the same mistakes twice where Levy is concerned, she has a tendency for repeat performances otherwise, just to see if the same action in a different scenario will muster different results. She is a thorough learner, if nothing else.
Also, she likes things that sparkle. She has watched the way Levy secrets away all of his monetary gains underneath floorboards and in walls. She has her own secret corner where she keeps her own pilferings—shiny baubles and things she has picked up and pocketed, whether or not they were free for the taking—and fails to realize what they call "stealing" is considered wrong. She has taken to sewing large, deep pockets into her frocks for the express purpose of holding the things she takes, for later storage.
I'M HOLDING ON SO VERY TIGHT
We're Riding in the Midnight Blue.
Persephone is an excellent mimic. A first impression of her is entirely dependent on what she wants you to see. Deeply observant to a fault, one of the first things she has learned is the fluidity with which people switch their social masks. Even Levy is a different person around colleagues (of which he seems to have very few) than he is around business associates, or at home when it just the two of them. Persephone has spent much of her short life studying the differences in these roles, learning to fall into them. For all intents and purposes, she is the perfect shell of whatever Levy might desire of her at whatever moment and has learned to adapt with his mood swings. Her observation of the public has shown her how to mimic the appropriate mask for the appropriate situation and she does so with stunning accuracy. She especially delights in accents.
She is not stupid. There is indeed a naďve quality to her because she is so very new to the world, but to mistake her innocence for foolishness would be foolish in itself. Apart from what was programmed into her, she is capable of learning and retaining information very quickly. She swallows literature like it's water, but moreover, she is always watching. She likes to stop by artisan shops and bakeries and smithies simply to see how things work. Eventually she will seek to do these things, to solidify the information of course, but even watching is enough to shape her understanding. She is in a constant state of both observation and adaptation and is able to do both efficiently. She appears natural enough in public, never uncertain or unsure, because "confidence" –she asked for that word as soon as she saw it in action—is important. It is only after her outings and experiences that she asks the questions she has to Levy and then applies them accordingly. Again, if she is going to earn her humanity, for lack of a better term, she must appear as though she is fit for it.
Her body has been made perfect for all sorts of activities and while she is soft and winsome on the outside, she possesses the physical strength of someone twice her size at least. At this point in time she hasn't any idea of it, though she is curious about the interactions she's seen between men when they strike at each other. Her lithe form, however, affords her a manner of grace that may seem unnatural for any human with the same build. Her hands, especially, seem specifically calibrated for more delicate endeavors. She uses them to her advantage often, though she is unaware that is what she is doing. In short, she is a naturally skilled pickpocket. She assumes all women have the same abilities and traits she has, just as she assumed all men were as powerful, intelligent and sharp as Levyathan. He was sure to lay that theory to rest as soon as she voiced it, but she was also taught that women are more contained than men. If they are holding the same secrets she is, she wouldn't know of it—in spite of her tendency to follow particularly beautiful women around to see just what it is they do with their time. She does not keep many female friends yet, though she is more curious about them than she will ever be about men. Stealth is also one of her talents—she is expert at being neither seen or heard as per Levyathan's less amicable moods.
She possesses an incredible tenacity. Given a project, she will see it finished, no matter the difficulty in completing the task. This can be dangerous, but more often for those who stand in the way of her goal. Most often these are simple enough tasks; just things Levyathan himself cannot be bothered to do. This determination is applicable to more complicated endeavors, however, and it might be said that she even doesn't fully understand the concepts of "hopelessness" or "failure." She doesn't quite get that there exist things she simply cannot do and this is a strength as much as it is a weakness. Without the knowledge that failure exists, what's to keep her from getting exactly what she means to acquire, or doing exactly what she means to do, adversity be damned?
LADY WITH A VIOLIN PLAYING TO THE SEE
Beckoning to the sound, we're going down.
• PLAY BY: Astrid Berges-Frisbey
• EYE COLOR: violet
• HAIR COLOR: dark brown
• HEIGHT: 5'5"
• WEIGHT: 150lbs as her skeleton is metal
• OVERALL APPEARANCE:
Persephone has been called beautiful and indeed, she was created with that intent. Her face seems rather sculpted than bred, with high cheekbones and a delicately sharp jawline, ending in a point of a chin. Full, rose-toned lips are a graceful compliment to her alabaster skin. A faint sprinkling of freckles decorate a dainty nose and across her shoulders, more pronounced if she spends enough time in the sun, though she is unlikely to go anywhere with her shoulders uncovered. Dark, long hair falls down her back in waves, though she keeps it tucked away from her face when she goes out in public. While her beauty is subtly unnatural, her most striking feature is her eyes. Hazel tinged with violet tones, her eyes change in the quality of light and may appear a brilliant amethyst or a pale lilac. She likes to catch people with her eyes—she delights in the small power she has to stop people for a second look, even if she does not mean to engage them in conversation. Her gaze can be intense as she is always observing, but there is a shine of innocence behind them that may be even more surprising, given some of the things she knows.
She is a creature of long, lean lines—a slender slip of a waist, delicate collarbones and legs that appear longer than they are because of her ideal shape. Her curves are gentle, but adequate in all the right places; bosom enough to fill Levy's hand, backside enough to register the coveted hourglass silhouette. As previously stated, she is protective of her shoulders—she thinks them to be her most attractive feature, right down to the tiny bumps of bone at their apex. Clothing is of a secondary importance to her. She understands it to be a sign of hierarchy and does tend toward richer colors when she has the choice, but she is not nearly as attracted to frippery as she is to objects. She prefers decoration to resplendence and would rather wear a simple brown frock with a brilliant bird-shaped brooch than a ball gown. . Indeed, she would look gorgeous in a burlap sack… and would willingly wear one as long as there was something shiny attached to it. Mostly, she feels as if too much cloth hinders her efficiency and has more than once asked that she be allowed to wear trousers. Until then, she sews large, deep pockets into her dresses and ties up her skirts when she is feeling more adventurous—and she is certain no one is watching.
Her voice is definitely feminine in tone and sound, nearer to a whisper than anything else. Percy tends to speak quickly, as if she's afraid her mouth can't move fast enough to encompass what she's thinking. She will pause afterward and explain herself if need be, using much more thorough and precise words than the first time around. Her language is peppered with old adages, technical terms, as well as a few choice curse words; she likes the way they feel in her mouth as well as the reactions they inspire when thrown into conversation unexpectedly.
I TURNED MY HEAD TO THE SEA
A strange wave came over me..
Really, Persephone is still finding out a lot about herself and her environment and on the most basic level, she seeks to know all because that seems to be Levy's goal and in order to be most helpful to him, their desires have to be the same. She is new to this world and while she can recognize qualities in others that she wishes to make her own, the difficulty comes in reconciling them with what Levyathan seems to want and expect from her. She understands herself to be… odd, at best. She would be off-putting if she wore her real face, asked the questions she wants to ask, expressed herself truly instead of behind wall upon wall of charade and social adaptation. Suffice it to say it more than the safety of anonymity that keeps her wearing her figurative masks. She is interested in the heart of a thing, to know it inside and out. On the inside she is softer, with a wry, sometimes dry sense of humor and a passionate devotion to the things and people she holds dear. She has a very keen curiosity about the nature of things. She likes concrete, real answers and she goes out of her way to find them. She finds comfort in consistency, but desires more. Not necessarily something different, but her observation of her maker has shown her that there is always more to know. At this point, that is her express goal.
In spite of her programming for the logical and her tendency toward the cool and calculating, Percy is not unapproachable. On the contrary, if it is important that you think her to be a friend, then that is what she is. She can seem the most compassionate, warm, loving person ever to walk the planet if it will get her the proper results. By the same token, given her basic and somewhat skewed understanding of right and wrong along with her inclination toward cold logic, she has the capacity for terrible cruelty when necessary, though most often when she feels it to be in the defense of her maker. It is important to note, however, that she is only imbuing herself with what she has observed in others when she does this. While she is actively choosing to exhibit the qualities, characteristics or quirks she has seen in someone else, this is not who she is. Her default setting, for lack of better phrasing, is amiable. She likes to stand in the middle of crowds, she likes hustle and bustle. She likes smiling at people on the street. She sees everything as a child does, with the awe and wonder of someone seeing things for the first time, and has a thorough and sometimes seemingly strange appreciation of objects others deem insignificant or take for granted. Time pieces, for example, are possibly the most beautiful things she's ever seen, especially after having seen all the cogs and spindles inside of them.
Levy's smile, though rare, is just about as attractive to her as the shiniest polished timepiece, and she goes out of her way to bring it out of him however she can, as often as she can. She is cautiously affectionate, though less so when he is in the middle of something important. She likes to sit at his feet while he works and read lines she thinks to be humorous from books she is reading. She adores the sound of his voice, even if he seems to be lecturing or upset with her. Sometimes she upsets him on purpose just because she likes the timbre of his angry tones. Though it seems she can even find pleasure in his agitation, at least to a certain point, nothing frustrates her more than miscommunication. She hates to be misunderstood, especially if it becomes cause for his anger. For that reason, she shows better than she tells. While her language is impeccable—though she is constantly expanding her vocabulary—she would much rather squeeze his hand than apologize for being silly, or make him something delicious to eat rather than explain how important it is that he keep up his strength.
There is a small measure of pride in her that cannot be overlooked. She knows what she wants to be and how she wants to appear and perhaps this the root of her severe dislike of being misunderstood. Persephone puts so much effort into appearing as she does that when she is misinterpreted, it is an affront to her senses. While she can take many things other says with a grain of salt, she can become most offended when Levy makes the wrong comment about something she believes she has clearly stated otherwise. Any miscommunication on her part, she sees to be indication of her inhumanness and that is unacceptable. Her indignation is severe, then, when she is accused of something like fear for example. There are things she does fear, of course, but even then she does not like to have it pointed out. It is a weakness and she wants as little to do with those as possible.
I'M FEELING I CAN FLY SO VERY HIGH WITH YOU
Nobody down below can believe their eyes.
◊ LIKES & DISLIKES ◊
♥ shiny objects— this is cause enough for her slippery fingers.
♥ bright colors, interesting textures, things she can touch
♥ words—she likes to move her mouth in odd ways
♥ foreign accents and mimicking them
♥ tasting things that smell strongly—she's experimentally eaten a lot of flowers
♥ being useful—she will do anything Levy asks, and plenty of things he doesn't if she thinks it will be good.
♥ being noticed, though she will not actively call attention to herself
♥ pocket watches—she likes to take them apart
♥ making things—it fascinates her that Levy was able to create her, she likes the power of smaller creations; clay, paints and even meals are her way of paying the idea forward
♥ being read to
○ being misunderstood
○ the taste of meat and the smell of black pepper
○ all things associated with blood and bleeding—she isn't squeamish, she just doesn't like it
○ anything with scales—fish and merpeople creep her out
○ reminders of her lack of humanity
○ Levy's cursed form, though more because of his mood when he's in it and less because of how it looks—she actually really likes his blond hair and wishes it was that color all the time
○ broken things, though less if she was the one to break them
○ clutter—she's constantly organizing and reorganizing Levy's things
○ being told she's wrong, even if she is
○ the word "no."
ONCE UPON A LONG LONG TIME
We flew away and never looked back.
◊ HISTORY ◊
• FAMILY: Mr. Levyathan Dragomir
And suddenly, she was.
There was no before, but it didn't quite occur to Persephone that most people had befores. History, the word for that was history. She needed none of that. There was a man laid before her—his fair hair was like straw, matted to the sides of his too-pale face with sweat, his body hewn somewhere between curling and stretching. She had no before—ahem, no history—but this man was her future, her only, her purpose. He was not well and there was a surge of discomfort in her. That was unacceptable. A small frown etched her face and without another moment's pause, she kneeled and curled one arm to cradle his neck and the other beneath his knees, hefting him up into her embrace with little difficulty. She lay him on a bed on the other side of the room. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, he was barely conscious and she glanced worriedly at the sheets she had mussed by placing him so haphazard. Priorities. He was better reclined and the sheets could be seen to later, though she did run her fingers over the linen for a pausing moment, feeling the fibers and threads. She would lay here later, next to him, so all her skin touched the soft linen and her body was available to his. Proximity was important, always. But he was so warm right now. Something to cool him. Something clean.
After some struggle with the thing she knew to be a pitcher and the running of the water—cool to the touch—into it, and the pouring of that water into the bowl, and the wetting of the cloth—this was a napkin, not a towel, but it would have to do—she was beside him again. She held the cloth to his forehead, dabbing at the perspiration beaded at his brows and looking over his robe, shirt and trousers. Those had to come off. The little round closures were interesting; she would have to come back to them once Levyathan did not look so pained. Once the first was undone, the rest came easily, though she mourned the tearing of the last few in her haste, his breath having hitched in a way that made her heart jump. Or. Her heart? Another question for later. It took too long to undress him for her tastes and she had considered ripping the rest but once he was well he would not like to see his finery in threads, she thought, and instead just moved more quickly. Naked, he looked worse and she bathed him gently—damp cloth along the skin, squeeze over bowl, dampen in pitcher, repeat—until his shivered. That seemed better than the fever and she held a cup of water to his lips. She had questions. When had he last eaten? How could he let himself fall into such disrepair? And could she perhaps take a closer look at those clasps on his robe, they shined in just the right ways?
His chill was incentive enough for her to strip bare as well—still pausing over the buttons on her own garment—before sliding next to him in the bed and covering them with the sheet. The tip of her nose touched the skin of his neck and she assured him she would leave for supplies as soon as he was resting peacefully. That she knew how to care for him, and wasn't he pleased with her for her ingenious use of the pitcher and the bowl and the cloth? Her ear to his chest, she listened to his heartbeat, with a hand over where hers would be. She wanted to reach in and touch it, but no, she knew that to be the opposite of what was good. She simply disliked that she could not seem to help him better. She waited until his breathing deepened, and she dressed again before venturing out into a world she knew, but had never seen.
There were explanations, later; rasped requests, orders, half-confessions she knew to keep locked away behind her tongue. Lectures, too—and not a word of thanks from him. Yet that was Levy and she was created to be his, whatever he wished of her. It was not romance or desperation, but function. Persephone was functional and efficient. She listened when he spoke, she did what he asked. She bathed and fed him, monitored his condition for any changes to indicate he was getting worse. She spent a lot of the first week reading while he recovered, watching him from over the edges of a bound leather book and waiting for him to speak again. His notes were nonsensical, but she probably understood them better than anyone else ever would. It was part of her programming. She kept track of her questions in a similar notebook, blank, she had found on that first and only trip out for supplies. It only seemed right; didn't everyone need a journal? Of course, Levy had one.
It was in his notes that she found references to the mysterious—and apparently infuriating, terrifying and endearing—Ariadne. It did not take long for her to realize Ariadne was the before. Before there was Persephone for Levy, there was Ariadne. And she had wondered how he had managed on his own before her; he had seemed nigh incapable when she had first opened her eyes to him. These notes she studied more closely, reverently, and the only thing she kept secret from her maker. She read these during the wee hours he actually slept, searching for what the end of Ariadne had been. Had she earned her humanity? Was that why Levy needed a new doll? How ungrateful of that Aria to leave him after he had done so much for her. Persephone would not make that mistake, once she earned herself a soul; a heart. She could not fathom leaving Levy, not for all his drastic changes in mood or his bouts of agitation with her. It was important she explain that, when once she felt she had earned a human place. Until then she would learn, and grow, and serve her purpose. And after?
Well. It was never wise to look too far ahead. She found it easy to trip, when she tried.
IN A FANTASY WORLD WE LIVE
Nothing as so simple I can give.
◊ROLEPLAY SAMPLE ◊
There were reasons Persephone knew Levy did not like her to go out alone. Well. She knew he had his reasons and he had listed them before, but there were caveats and addendums she added sometimes in order to do what she knew was best in the long run. It was not so much that she did not trust his word—Levyathan's word was law—but that she had noted his tendency to disregard what was in his best interests if it hadn't to do with money or magic. He could go days without sleeping or eating and while she had almost been convinced he himself must be part golem, the reality of the situation was that he was a man bent on work and he would be no man at all if he had not created someone to care for his baser needs. These included, but were not limited to, food and sleep. Still, there were other facets of his well-being Persephone believed he let fall to the wayside and as it was her charge to do whatever it took to keep him well, it was necessary to take some steps that did not strictly fall into the boundaries he had set out for her. Yes, he would be upset, but she would explain it was for him that she had attempted her latest… experiment. Yes, experiment. Important people did experiments. Levy did them. Percy was learning how.
This particular experiment was inspired by a fight she had witnessed a few days ago while running back home from market. Aggression had always been intriguing to her; any passionate emotion skewed toward the negative was just so interesting. Persephone didn't experience many of those, but they were always educational to witness. The fight had broken out somewhat suddenly when one man accused another of inappropriately ogling his lady. Percy had never seen any harm in someone looking and someone else and wondered if she herself might be caught in a situation much like the one that unfolded in front of her that day while she stood observing from a few feet away, her fingers stroking over the fuzz of the beautiful rosy orange peach she had chosen because she thought it would make Levy smile. The hair at the back of his neck was much like that of the peach and there was a tiny absurd smile on her face when she made that connection, while still watching the pummeling taking place on the street. While Levy boasted of both offensive and defensive spells, magic that could do real harm to a person, Percy had never seen a man strike another man before.
And she thought, perhaps, it would do her good to learn to ball her fingers in such a way. She did not have the same power as Levy and she never would, much to her dismay. Certainly there were others ways she could make herself of use to protect him. It did not occur to her that this kind of fighting was done mostly by men for a reason, or that a woman seeking a fight during evening hours might receive more than she bargained for, only that this was another skill it would do her well to possess. Levy, holed up at his desk, had hardly taken notice of her leaving at such a strange hour. She found what she sought almost immediately, and in better form than she had expected. A relatively large group of men as well as some less than savory women serving as their cheerleaders, circled in a ring of sorts making wagers on who would win the next fight. Anyone could volunteer. They laughed when she stepped forward, her skirts tied just so because she had observed some of the fancy footwork the men used when they danced around the ring and it would be in her best interests to keep her legs free. The did not deny her the opportunity, however.
She returned home an hour later, covered in mud and blood and quickly darkening bruises. Her body ached, but most of the blood staining her dress did not belong to her. It was little consolation—she hated blood. The smell, the look, the taste. A small sacrifice, though, for the knowledge that she had bested a man in a fair fight, and the prize she held in her palm. Knowing it would be useless to vie for his attention otherwise, Percy stuck her hand out right in front of Levyathan's squinted eyes as he hunched over his desk, palm up. He wouldn't see the busted knuckles until later and hopefully the fact that he had pursued this experience without his express permission would be overshadowed by the coin she had made from winning the fight and the new skill she had acquired with nothing but his protection in mind. "Look what I won." She tried not to sound too excited—he tended to ignore her more fiercely when she sounded like a child. Her prize? A small gold tooth.
ABOUT THE ROLEPLAYER
Come now, don't be shy. Give me some pie.
◊THE ROLEPLAYER ◊
• YOUR NAME HERE • nik
• AGE: 25
• CONTACT INFO: PM me for AIM, Y!M and MSN
• YEARS ROLE PLAYING: about 8
• CHARACTERS: just Persephone for now
• HOW DID YOU FIND US?: character request on Caution 2.0